Another Way
by absolutethronestrash
Summary: Daenerys knows Jon's true identity before he arrives at Dragonstone. The decisions that she makes based on that will change everything… Meanwhile, Arya takes a different route home. Jonerys-centric, season 7-8 AU. Begins after 7x02. All reviews welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1 - DANY**

It was oddly quiet and oddly cold as Daenerys awoke in her new chamber at Dragonstone. The storm that had raged the night before had died down during the small hours of the morning and now there was weak sunlight shining in through. She got up and padded over to the window to look out to sea; her three children roared far overhead, no doubt fighting over food. Dany frowned as the events of the night before came back to her.

The Spider, Varys, had sworn loyalty to her, though she wasn't sure she trusted him completely, or even at all. She had met a servant of the Lord of Light, who believed Daenerys had a role to play somehow in a mission of the Red God. She had told her to summon Ned Stark's bastard son to Dragonstone, something Tyrion had vouched for, a man who claimed to be King in the North, something that both angered and intrigued her. The Red Priestess Melisandre was still somewhere in the castle, Dany was sure, and made a decision to speak with her again.

Missandei was smiling as she braided her hair that morning.

"Our Dornish allies are just a day's sail away," she reported as she worked away on Dany's silver hair. "And the Lady of Highgarden not much more."

"That is good, my friend" Daenerys said. She needed all of her allies together at Dragonstone so that they could plan her conquest properly and pool strategies.

"And Lord Tyrion has sent a raven North to Jon Snow."

Dany frowned thoughtfully. "I seriously doubt a self-proclaimed king would bend the knee so easily."

Missandei looked at her. "What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know. He might refuse to even come here."

"The Red Priestess from Asshai seemed to know him pretty well," Missandei pointed out. "And wasn't Tyrion married to Sansa Stark for a little while? She is his sister, isn't she?"

Daenerys nodded. "I suppose so. I could speak to either of them to find out more. But it might all be for naught." Yet something about Melisandre's power intrigued her. Dany wanted more information.

Her friend seemed to sense this. "Melisandre is still here," Missandei said. "I can bring her to you, if you would like."

"It's alright," Daenerys said, smiling. "I can find her myself. We have a day before anyone else arrives here. I can speak to the Red Woman and go for a wander around."

She broke fast alone, in the Chamber of the Painted Table, staring out to sea. It was eerily calm, given the storm the night before. Daenerys couldn't help but wonder if Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters had sat where she was now, and sought respite in the view of the calm water while planning their own invasion of the Seven Kingdoms. _And they had dragons_. As though in tune with her thoughts, her children, Drogon loudest of all, roared again. Dany grinned as she left the castle and made her way around the cliffs.

She found the Red Priestess on a break of the steps, facing out to sea. Dany cautiously went over to her.

"Daenerys Jelmazmo," Melisandre said as she approached. "Forgive me. I do not mean to intrude on this island, and I will be gone before long."

"The Red Priests helped bring peace to Meereen," Dany reiterated to her. "Any servant of the Lord of Light is welcome here. For as long as they like." Yet once again, she had the intuition that Melisandre had complex powers and could possibly see the future.

"My duty is to bring Ice and Fire together," the Red Woman said cryptically. "Once that has happened, my task here is complete."

"Where will you go?" Daenerys asked curiously.

"Volantis," Melisandre replied. "But not for long. I will die in this strange country, Daenerys Stormborn. As will you."

"Ice and Fire," Dany murmured contemplatively, trying to ignore the discomfort she felt at the Red Priestess mentioning their deaths. She met the other woman's eyes. "You mean myself and this Jon Snow?"

Melisandre nodded, and opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Rhaegal flying overhead with a roar. Instead she smiled. "Fire made flesh," she said softly. "The first dragons Westeros has seen for three hundred years."

"My children." Daenerys smiled back wistfully. "The only ones I'll ever have."

The Red Woman gave her a searching look. "The curse will break soon enough," she said simply, then turned fully around, her back to the cliff edge. Dany ignored her as she processed her words. _How did she know about that?_

"Prophecies are dangerous things," she said gravely, noticing Daenerys' surprise. "I cannot tell you everything."

Daenerys shook her head and pulled herself together, changing the topic out of self-need. The two of them started to walk down the spiral stairs of the path. "Varys said you used to serve Stannis Baratheon."

Melisandre nodded. "I did."

"He used Dragonstone as a base for some time, didn't he?"

She nodded again. "Before he went to the Wall."

_That must be where he met Jon Snow_. "You must know this castle better than anyone else here," she mused.

"Yes, quite possibly, the castle and the vaults beneath."

This got Dany's attention. She stopped. "Vaults?"

Melisandre nodded. "Dragonstone is built in a system of cliffs and mountains of stone," she explained. "Below the Dragonmont there are many tunnels and caves. You should probably explore them while you have the chance."

Dany smiled. "Show me the way."

She was thankful for the Red Priestess as the two of them walked through endless tunnels of glittering black rock. Dany thought they must have gone a mile or two under the castle and wondered just how close they were to the Dragonstone volcano.

"This is known as dragonglass," Melisandre mentioned to her as they walked deeper through the maze of zig-zagging rock tunnels. "Volcanic glass. Obsidian."

Daenerys hummed in acknowledgement as they rounded a corner, only to come face to face with a solid wall of the stuff. She turned again, making to go back the way they had come, until she noticed Melisandre gently touching the wall with one hand. It was then that Dany realised, stepping closer, in front of her was some sort of barricade structure.

"Can we get through there?" she wondered aloud.

"I should think we could," the Red Priestess said in a blasé manner. "I never could before, as this sort of vault requires a blood sacrifice to surpass. I do not possess the blood of dragons, Daenerys Stormborn. But you do."

Dany was nonplussed. "You mean only members of House Targaryen can get through this?"

Melisandre nodded again.

Despite her fear and misgivings, Dany felt a small rush of excitement. Her parents might have known about this vault, have accessed it themselves. Rhaegar, too. Or perhaps, none of them had known at all and she would be the first to break into the vault since the days of Aegon and Rhaenys and Visenya.

She removed the three-headed dragon brooch from the front of her dress, using its pin to pierce the pad of her thumb. Wincing, she looked to the Red Woman for confirmation before gently swiping the edge of the glittering rock. The effect was instant: a low rumble of rock later, a large chunk of wall jutted out and swung forward in admittance.

The two of them cautiously crept inside. The vault was small, and the dust generated from the movement of the door made Dany cough and she walked through. Looking around, she couldn't understand what made the vault so special. On the floor lay a small stack of books and papers; one edge of wall boasted a make-shift shelf. The remainder of the space was bare. Yet, strangely, Dany felt connected to her family in a way she hadn't ever experienced.

Melisandre offered her the fire torch they had brought with them, but she shook her head. Dany gently picked up the tiny stack of papers. As she approached the shelf, she found a sword in its scabbard leaning against the wall, the hilt of a dagger just visible. Dany slipped the dagger into her pocket reverently and took the sword with her spare hand, struggling with the weight for a few seconds.

She was silent for a moment, looking around the glittering cave. Only then did she realise that Melisandre was still watching her.

"I would take these back up to the castle," she said softly, relishing in the items she was holding, their potential significance. "And perhaps return them after."

Melisandre looked from her to the books and back again. "As you will. These are yours, now."

Dany barely registered the return journey to the beach. It was only as she began to climb the stairs back to the castle that her arms and back ached from the weight of the sword and the books. It was a relief when she returned to the Chamber of the Painted Table and she was able to put everything down on the map where Dorne was engraved.

The Red Priestess approached the blades. "These are Valyrian steel," she said softly.

Dany knew these were rare, having heard both Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan speak of them once. "I wonder who left them."

"Possibly whoever authored these," Melisandre mused.

Daenerys picked up the top book and opened the cover. A faint drawing of what looked like a harp adorned the first page, accompanied with several squiggles which Dany could only assume were music notes.

She smiled softly, her stomach flipping as she remembered her conversations with Ser Barristan all that time ago. "I think this belonged to my brother, Rhaegar," she said. She promptly rifted through the remainder of the books and papers. One document caught her eye. The Seven-Pointed Star adorned the top, and her late brother's name and signature the bottom.

She walked back and lowered herself into a chair to study it. It was an official document, annulling the marriage of Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. Surprised, Dany looked at the next document in the pile, which was a similarly decorated parchment detailing a new marriage between her brother and Lyanna of House Stark.

"Rhaegar left Elia and married Lyanna Stark," Dany said softly, smoothing out the papers. She glanced at the Red Priestess. "Did you know of this? Is this why you encouraged me to go to the vault?"

"I do not know everything," Melisandre replied, but the look in her eyes seemed to suggest elsewise.

"Why would he do that, though?" Dany mused, setting the paper down and picking up another small book.

"Perhaps the books will give you the answers you seek," Melisandre suggested. She had wandered over to the edge of the room and had now resumed staring out to sea.

Dany picked a book at random and carefully flipped through what seemed to be a diary. She felt a swell of sadness for the older brother she had never known. Perhaps he had written some of its contents right here where she now sat, perhaps Kings Landing, or somewhere else entirely. Opening at a random page, she read:

_They are marching south, I have heard, the Baratheon forces. Many allies are at his back, among them, my own beloved's brother. The last I heard, Mother and Viserys were coming to Dragonstone, to be safe if these rebels make it to Kings Landing. I will only see them briefly – I must visit my wife in the Tower of Joy one last time before I march on the Trident. If I fall to Robert's forces, I would pray the new Lord of Winterfell find his sister and take her and our as yet unborn child home North so they may live._

Dany's eyes watered as she read. Rhaegar had fallen on the Trident, and Lyanna Stark had died anyway. She wondered of their child, a niece or nephew of age with herself. She thought hard. Perhaps Ned Stark had found his sister at the Tower of Joy, and had taken her child home. The child would have had to have grown up with an entirely new identity – any hint of a Targaryen child would have sparked more violence in the Usurper King. Realisation hitting her, Dany turned to the Red Woman for confirmation.

"Melisandre?" she started hesitantly. "Tell me more about Jon Snow."

The Red Priestess turned back into the room and eyed Daenerys with a smile, one that unnerved her a little.

"You did know, didn't you?" Dany said accusingly, her fingers poised over the paragraph of the book.

"I had suspicions," the other woman said, pacing forward. "No more, no less. He does not know of his heritage, if this is what you fear." She gave another wry smile. "Regardless of who he is to you, there must be more between the two of you than simple familial ties."

Dany frowned. "Meaning?"

"The Long Night is coming," she said in Valyrian, the same she had said the night before, when they first met. "Only the Prince Who Was Promised can bring the dawn." She took another step forward. "Many servants of the Lord of Light believe this prophecy refers to you. I believed it meant Stannis Baratheon, once – a mistake. I now have a feeling it may refer to Jon Snow... either way, prophecies are dangerous things." She paused. "As I said, I cannot tell you everything. Some of the information you need, you need to get from him, and others."

Dany glanced back at Rhaegar's books. "Please, don't tell any of the others," she said softly. "I don't want my advisors or allies knowing about... about this."

Melisandre nodded.

"I'd like to be alone," she continued, pulling another book towards her. The Red Priestess curtsied lightly and complied, her footsteps barely audible on the stone floor.

Dany turned back to the table, her mind and heart racing. She wanted more answers, and spent the rest of the afternoon lost in her brother's memoirs.

**A/N: **Thank you so much for reading! I'm so excited to be back and writing fanfiction (I wanted to write sooner but the finale aired the same day my A Levels started... anyway). I appreciate this isn't the greatest chapter ever written, but I just wanted to get this little project started. I'm not terming this fic as a 'fix-it'; I didn't necessarily like the ending, but I accept it, and everything except the writing was fantastic. That said, be assured that in this, Dany won't go mad or be killed by Jon. Bran won't end up on the Iron Throne.

Also, thank you for the continued support of my other fics – it honestly means the world.

Thanks for reading again, don't forget to review. Until next time :)


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2 – DANY**

Dany kept to herself for a little while after the Red Priestess had taken her leave, and she remained for some time in a chair in the Chamber of the Painted Table, trying to process what she had just read and uncovered. She was surprised at herself to realise that her most prominent feeling was excitement. No longer was she the last Targaryen in the world, now there was a glimmer of a prospect of a family in the nephew she never knew existed. Naturally, the bitter thoughts came too. A nephew who claimed sovereignty of her northernmost kingdom, and one who technically had the stronger claim to the Iron Throne than she did. Dany did her best to repress these. She would sit the Iron Throne, she knew she would. No way would she come so far, only to fall at the last hurdle.

Daenerys also knew she could not let on this information to anyone, not even Tyrion, and especially not to Jon himself. The more rational part of her knew that she would need to get to know him for who he was – the so-called King in the North – and not allow any of the knowledge she had to cloud her judgement.

Still, the blood they shared excited her somewhat. Part of her wanted to hold off the strategy meetings and all of the planning of her conquest of Westeros until she could meet him. That same part of her assumed, foolishly or otherwise, that he would want to help her.

The rest of that day had been fairly uneventful – aside from secret marriages and children, the rest of Rhaegar's documents consisted mostly of poetry and drafts of music compositions. Dany read through them all with bittersweet wistfulness, part of her wishing Viserys had been as temperate as their older brother seemed to have been.

Over the coming few days she had received a raven back from Winterfell, a short message written in a scrawled hand confirming that Jon Snow would indeed be travelling to Dragonstone. She had been sat with her Hand at the time, who had read the tiny parchment to her before placing it over Winterfell on the table.

"What do you know of Jon Snow?" she asked him, breaking the silence. A fair question, she told herself, to find out more about a potential ally, and not necessarily because of who he was to her.

"It was many years ago since I last saw him," Tyrion said, taking a sip of wine. "Almost an exact copy of his father – a Stark in all but name." Daenerys blinked, the words conflicting with the truth she knew. Her Hand did not notice this as he continued. "Yet he was young, a boy pretty much, and a sulky child to boot. He grew up close with his siblings, yet his bastard status caused some division, it seems." He trailed off thoughtfully. "He seemed to me like an honourable lad, but…"

Dany's interest peaked. "But…?"

Tyrion met her gaze. "He joined the Night's Watch, Your Grace. What do you know of the Night's Watch?"

Dany thought for a second. "An ancient order, sworn to man the Wall." In truth, this was all she knew. If Viserys had taught her anything else about it in her childhood, she had forgotten.

"There are many oaths that men of the Night's Watch swear," he said, sipping at his wine again. "Holding no lands, being one of them. Wearing no crowns, being another. Living and dying at their post, another still. Ned Stark even executed deserters in the name of Robert Baratheon, if I remember correctly."

"Yet Jon Snow holds Winterfell and the rest of the North," Dany said, eyebrows furrowed. "And he must have deserted the Wall to be named their king."

"Exactly," Tyrion said, leaning back in his chair. "I expect there's an interesting story behind it all, if we are able to uncover it." He paused. "That all said, I did like Jon Snow. I trusted him. I travelled with him to the Wall when he joined the Nights Watch."

"Why?"

"At the time, Robert Baratheon had travelled to Winterfell to ask Lord Stark to be his Hand. We all went with him. I decided I wanted to see the famous Wall for myself."

"And you did?"

"I did," Tyrion said with a retrospectively wistful smile. "There is nothing more in the world that makes you more aware of the fragility of your own existence than standing on the top of a five-hundred-foot block of ice."

Daenerys smiled. "Not even standing in front of three dragons?"

"A close second," her Hand quipped.

Dany stared into the distance. "I would like to see the Wall someday, I think. One of the greatest structures man has ever built."

"I expect you will, someday. Especially if you ally with Jon Snow."

Later that day, Dany gathered with her allies in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Theon and Yara Greyjoy stood together at one wall, Ellaria Sand further along, and Lady Olenna Tyrell seated at the end furthest from the window. To her regret, the various groups didn't seem to be seeing eye to eye.

"If you want the Iron Throne, take it," Yara pitched. "We have an army, a fleet and three dragons. We should hit Kings Landing now, hard, with everything we have. The city will fall within a day."

"If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms," Tyrion replied firmly.

"It's called _war_," Ellaria Sand mocked him. "If you don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding!"

"I know how _you_ wage war," Tyrion snapped. "We don't poison little girls here." His voice softened. "Myrcella was innocent." Dany looked between her Hand and the Dornish woman.

"She was a Lannister," Ellaria hissed back vehemently. "There are no innocent Lannisters. My regret is that Oberyn died fighting for _you_."

"That's enough," Dany cut in firmly, before things could get any worse. "Tyrion is Hand of the Queen – you will treat him with respect." She broke off to look at each person in the group pointedly. "We will not attack Kings Landing, not yet."

"Then when do you propose to take the Iron Throne?" Olenna Tyrell asked, with more than a hint of satire. "And what is your plan in the meantime?"

Dany exchanged a look with Tyrion before answering. "I have been communicating with the North. Jon Snow is the King in the North, apparently, but he is on his way here to Dragonstone. For alliance or not, I want to see if I can secure his support before taking Kings Landing – we may need more men or resources."

Lady Olenna snorted. "The North won't give you either. My House has the greatest supply of harvest in the Seven Kingdoms; the northern army is decimated by infighting. And this bastard boy won't support you, not given the enmity between your father and the Starks."

Tyrion cut in. "He may support our Queen if it means she sits on the Iron Throne instead of Cersei. If Sansa has told him –"

"Sansa?" she scoffed. "Sansa doesn't want war. That little girl wants peace, and to hold onto the remaining family she has. She hates Cersei, for sure, but not enough to act."

"She's not just a little girl anymore," Theon said unexpectedly from the corner. It was the first time he had voiced anything in the meeting, and it took Dany by surprise the conviction with which he spoke. "She's changed, since, since…" He trailed off and retreated into the corner, and into silence. Yara eyed him with concern.

"Well that's very good to hear," Olenna said smoothly. "Frankly I'm amazed that she's still alive. But this still does not mean that she will help us defeat Cersei, nor her bastard brother."

"What do you have against bastards?" Ellaria Sand said indignantly. "Dorne is with whatever decision you make, Your Grace."

Daenerys smiled in thanks. Yara Greyjoy nodded her head in support as well. Theon was staring at the floor and appeared not to be paying attention. Dany knew he had been through some sort of trauma at the hands of the Boltons in the North, and she had assumed the conversation had brought back bad memories.

"We still need a plan," Olenna pointed out. "New allies or not."

"I am not here to be queen of the ashes," Dany said firmly.

"Then how do you mean to take the throne? By asking nicely?" Olenna replied.

"We will surround the capital on all sides in a siege," Tyrion said. "The Greyjoy fleet can ferry the Dornish to the capital, and transport the Unsullied to Casterly Rock, who can take it, then march on towards Kings Landing and help with the blockade. Half the Dothraki can help with the siege, while the other half will protect Highgarden and its supplies."

"And if Jon Snow agrees to pledge the North to our cause, they too can help with the siege," Daenerys added.

"Starks don't fare well in the South," Olenna said reflectively.

"Good job he's not a Stark," Ellaria countered.

"Either way, it appears this plan could easily enough be enacted with or without the North." Olenna said. "Just as well, really."

The meeting finished swiftly up after that.

It had been a couple of weeks now, and Dany was beginning to feel restless. After consideration, she had sent some of the Dothraki off on their way as planned, to protect Highgarden and to send stockpiles of supplies on to them at Dragonstone. The island had felt considerably emptier after that, despite the presence of the Ironborn and the rest of the forces.

Dany spent one morning standing in the Chamber of the Painted Table, staring out to sea, occasionally looking down to watch various groups of soldiers going about their business. She was peaceful for a while, until she noticed a small dark spec on the horizon. She watched it grow larger until she decided that it was a boat.

As if on cue, Varys entered the chamber.

"Pardon me, Your Grace," he said. "But a ship with what seems to be Stark sigils on its sails is approaching."

Dany smiled. "Send Tyrion, Missandei, and a dozen Unsullied to the beach. I will meet Jon Snow in the throneroom."

**A/N: **Thank you so much for reading my second chapter! And thank you all, so much, for all of the support I have received from the last one. I'm so glad you all seem to like this story and I hope I can please as many of you with where this goes as possible. Also thank you for being so patient waiting for this (short) chapter – I had major writer's block with this one.

Before Dany and Jon meet in this fic, I want to get the ball rolling with Arya's storyline; as such the next chapter will be in Arya's POV.

Thanks so much for reading again, don't forget to review. Until next time :)


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3 – ARYA**

A crinkle of a satisfied smile slowly crept across Arya's face as she rode closer and closer to Westeros' capital city. Kings Landing had been her goal right from the moment she once again set foot in her home country. The short stay at the Twins she simply considered unfinished business; now her sights were set back on Cersei. For her father. For Sansa. For her whole family, she supposed.

Only the faintest glimmer of a plan had begun to formulate in Arya's mind as to how she would bring about Cersei's demise. She hoped she would find someone close to the queen who she could take the face of, to add a kind of authenticity to their encounter – until it was too late. Her skills from the House of Black and White would suit her well here, that much was certain. Arya was in no hurry. She would stay in Kings Landing for as long as she needed, if it meant getting her hands on the Lannister queen.

As she rode unspotted through the gates of the city, Arya remembered another person she wanted to meet again. She hoped desperately that her other best friend, from the days of Harrenhal and the Brotherhood Without Banners, had survived his ordeal with the Red Witch and wherever she had taken him. Arya had briefly seen, and abruptly avoided, Hot Pie at the Inn at the Crossroads during her travel south – she hadn't wanted her old friend to see what and who she had become. But Gendry was different, in a way Arya couldn't explain. And she so wanted to see him.

The first thing she noticed as she made her way further into the city was how quiet everything was. Kings Landing was still home to around a million people, if talk were true, yet she could not see how this was possible. Arya remembered how the city had been when she was a child – bustling with life – other children playing and laughing, lowly merchants shouting their wares, the elderly gossiping in corners; people wearing every colour under the sun conducting their daily lives on these streets. But now, the outer streets were nearly silent. Doors closed, shutters drawn, barely a single soul in sight.

_Winter is coming_ Arya whispered to herself. It seemed to her like a valid explanation.

She also noticed the piled rubble around what used to have been the Sept of Baelor. Part of Arya felt glad – this had been where her father had been killed, a spot she had not wanted to reacquaint herself with; part of her felt horrified. If this is what Cersei was capable of, what else was she capable of? And what other things did she have planned?

As Arya got closer to the Red Keep, she found more and more people around each passing street. It wasn't long before she found the Street of Steel. She noticed the volume of weapons being produced and piled in the corners of each forge – mostly swords, and a few pots of arrowheads – and it didn't take long to realise that Cersei was building up an army. Arya's brows wrinkled as she wondered who the Lannister queen was planning to fight this time. She hoped it was the Boltons – the traitorous northerners who had taken Winterfell and helped bring about Robb and her mother's deaths. She had met a group of Lannister soldiers in the Riverlands during her journey who had been part of a small contingent sent to manage the Twins; Arya wondered how many more were still in Kings Landing, waiting to be deployed.

Having dismounted from her horse, Arya crept from forge to forge, anxiety growing with each one as she found no sign of Gendry. She was careful not to be seen, though she was sure no one would still recognise her if she was. She nearly gave up as she approached the very last smithy on the street, completely quiet if not for one person huffing over an anvil. Sight of short black hair made Arya sigh in relief – for there he was.

"Gendry?" she said, and was surprised at the gentle tone of her voice. She didn't think she could do gentle. Not anymore.

He turned around. Arya noticed he was taller and leaner than he had been when she last saw him, fully grown now, no longer the stubborn, sulky teen she had travelled with. Soot lined the creases in his skin and dark circles seemed to glow under his eyes in the firelight of the forge, but there was no mistaking him, now even more muscular from hammering at the anvil. Gendry's expression turned from one of indifference, to confusion, to recognition – and finally a wide grin spread across his face.

"Arya?" he hailed her back, staggering forward a few paces in shock. "No way – it is you!" He made a noise of disbelief. "And I see you got that sword back!"

Arya carefully glanced around, ensuring no prying eyes or wandering ears. She stepped further into the forge. "No one can know I'm here," she said cautiously as she did so.

He regarded her seriously. "They won't. Not from me. I promise." Then he smiled slightly again. "I can't believe you're here. Where are you trying to get to, and to who?" He studied her. "The Sept's gone now… the Red Keep?"

Arya nodded. She supposed it was rather obvious.

Gendry rolled his eyes at her. "Of course you are. I'd stay a million leagues from there if I could – Cersei's gone mad. They say she blew up the Sept with wildfire stashed underground. I can't believe she'd go that far."

"I can," Arya said darkly, shrugging. She lowered her voice. "It's her I'm here for." She mimed slitting a throat.

He nodded. "A vengeance mission." Then he shook his head. "You'd never do it. Not with the guards she has."

Arya raised her eyebrows. "You don't think?"

Gendry smiled. "You haven't changed a bit."

"I have." She lowered her eyes. That would have to be a conversation for another time.

"Well, I'm not going to try to stop you, as I know it wouldn't work," he said, taking another step towards her to lean on the edge of a workbench. "But you need a plan – a good one at that – and somewhere to go in the meantime." He tilted his head to look at her better. "Where do I come in?"

This startled Arya. "You don't have to be involved if you don't want to be… I just wanted to check in on you, and make sure you were alright." She then recounted how she had briefly spotted Hot Pie at the Inn at the Crossroads.

Gendry shrugged his shoulders. "I have a small place a couple of streets down. You can stay there. If you want."

"Thanks. You're sure you want to help me?"

He nodded. "Of course. You're my friend, and I hate the Lannisters. On the condition that once you're done with Cersei, you'll help me get out of here."

Arya agreed. "Done. Though it seems strange. They've given you a job. Arming them, armouring them. Enough wages to eat and have a place to stay. You'd give all that up?"

A glimmer of suppressed annoyance appeared on Gendry's face. "I'm sick of arming the family who hurt mine."

"What do you mean?"

Gendry sighed and looked back at her. He lowered his voice to scarce more than a whisper. "I'm Robert Baratheon's bastard."

Arya's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. She was speechless.

"I didn't know before, not until she told me."

"The Red Woman?" Arya questioned cautiously, lip curling, eyes narrowing in detest. "What did she want with you?"

"My blood," he answered sullenly. "Some kind of spell. I'd rather not talk about it."

Arya conceded with a nod.

"But I want to get out of Kings Landing," Gendry continued after a moment. "I've had enough of this place. I've been looking for an opportunity, and this looks like it could be it."

Arya smiled.

"But where will we go?"

Arya thought for a moment. "North. Winterfell. I need to sort out the Boltons who stole my home and murdered my family."

Gendry looked puzzled. "I thought I heard somewhere that the Boltons were dead," he mused. Then he shrugged again. "I don't know. Sounds good, though." He paused. "Whatever you want, if I can help you, I will."

This was better than Arya could have dared hope. She grinned at him. "Thanks."

Without warning, he pulled her in for a hug. And, after a few seconds, as she relaxed into him, a peculiar sense of security washed over Arya, perhaps for the first time since she had left Winterfell all those years ago.

She would kill Cersei. She would avenge her family. And she would help Gendry escape Kings Landing, once and for all.

**A/N: **Thanks so much for reading! This chapter is long overdue, very short and not particularly great but I wanted to get the ball rolling with Arya's storyline before having Jon and Dany meet. Apologies for the delay in this update.

I figured Arya wouldn't know about the Battle of the Bastards and Jon becoming King in the North if she hadn't spoken to Hot Pie, and as such would have continued south to Kings Landing and maybe met up with Gendry while there.

The next chapter will be in Jon's POV and will involve him meeting Daenerys so stay tuned! Thanks so much for reading again – don't forget to review. Until next time :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4 – JON**

Jon was not one for long voyages. After two weeks of nothing but open waters, he was keen to put Ser Davos' teasing and several bouts of sea sickness far behind him. As the island of Dragonstone gradually came into view, Jon's stomach rumbled with fresh anxiety. When he boarded the ship at White Harbour, it had been after a few days' travel, where people had hailed him 'King in the North' and lined the streets to watch him pass. Jon had averted his eyes and managed the awkward nod here and there – being a leader had not become any easier. But here, he knew reception could be frosty – or worse. Jon had not heard much about Daenerys Targaryen over the course of his lifetime – save for her existence and that she was said to be travelling about Essos, liberating slaves. And now here she was – another contender for the Iron Throne – gaining allies at Cersei Lannister's expense. He didn't really know what to think of her, spare a little admiration for what must have been quite some effort to return to Westeros.

But Jon was right about his reception on the beach at Dragonstone. The winds had picked up slightly as they arrived at the shore and the water seemed to hiss as it crashed against the flysch in waves. A group of sullen-faced Dothraki, accompanied with another group of soldiers Jon assumed must be the Unsullied, circled his men and their little boat fairly swiftly. With them stood a tall, slim girl with curly hair who Jon did not recognise, and the man he had corresponded with in the first place – Tyrion Lannister.

"The bastard of Winterfell," he said in greeting now, as Jon found himself flanked by the handful of men he had brought with him, as well as his unofficial Hand, Ser Davos. A tired smile did not quite reach Tyrion's eyes.

"The dwarf of Casterly Rock," he quipped back.

They shook hands. Due to the close proximity, Jon noticed a long, diagonal line across his face.

"You've picked up some scars along the road," he commented as he stepped back.

"It's been a long road," Tyrion answered. "But we're both still here. I believe we last saw each other atop the Wall."

"You were pissing off the edge if I remember right."

Jon then witnessed the awkward introduction between Tyrion and Ser Davos, remembering their differing alliances at the Battle of Blackwater Bay as the latter himself mentioned it. The slight tension that already existed seemed to escalate in the pause that followed.

Tyrion turned to the girl beside him. "Missandei is the queen's most trusted advisor," he said, by way of introduction.

"Welcome to Dragonstone," the girl said diplomatically with a smile. "Our queen knows this is a long journey and she appreciates the efforts you have made on her behalf." A slight edge appeared in her tone. "If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons."

Jon glanced around at the dozen or so men he had brought with him. Each one was fully armoured and carried at least a sword, if not daggers as well. One or two even had axes. All wore hesitant, unwilling facial expressions – looking for confirmation from Jon himself. As he looked back towards Tyrion, and this girl, Missandei – both of whom facing him with expectant looks – he had to force a smile.

"Of course," he made himself say, though he was not sure it sounded convincing. Indeed, his men looked very grudging as the group of Dothraki guards went forth to take the weapons. Jon tried not to appear too agitated as he handed over Longclaw to a particularly burly looking one. He then watched in quiet alarm as the Unsullied soldiers dragged their little boat away, and went about seeing to their ship.

Missandei seemed happier now that he and his men were no longer armed. She gave them another tight smile. "Please. This way." She gestured towards the castle.

Davos followed their new hosts away from the shore readily enough, while Jon found himself forcing one foot in front of the other. He noticed the older man was speaking to Missandei, though he quickly fell back.

"This place has changed," he said drily, by way of conversation. Jon nodded. He did not yet know Daenerys or her people, and he had scarcely known Stannis or his. With no opinion on the matter, he simply followed along, feeling lighter, yet vulnerable, without his Valyrian steel blade.

They were being taken up to the castle, which stood atop the cliffs. Narrow, winding paths of stone steps seemed the only feasible way of getting there. Davos appeared to struggle after the first few minutes; Tyrion, too, fell back behind Missandei to speak with Jon as they climbed.

"I take it the Wall is still standing," he quipped.

"It was the last time I saw it," Jon replied in a non-committal manner. There would be a time to bring up the issue of the Night King and the White Walkers, soon, in fact – but huffing with the effort of the brisk uphill walk with the sound of waves crashing all around was not it.

"And how long ago was that?" Tyrion said it as a jest, yet Jon could not help but feel as though it wasn't. Still, he smiled slightly and shook his head. "At some point I want to hear how a Night's Watch recruit became the King in the North."

"As long as you tell me how a Lannister became Hand to Daenerys Targaryen."

A glint of humour appeared on the dwarf's face. "A long and bloody tale. To be honest, I was drunk for most of it. And I'm guessing you weren't for your own tale."

"I believe that," Jon said with a smile and a snort of amusement. "And no, I wasn't."

They went around a corner in the path. Looking up, Jon could now see the castle of Dragonstone, along with three small dark specs he could only assume were the dragons.

Tyrion continued. "And Sansa, I hear she's alive and well?"

"She is," Jon nodded.

"Does she miss me terribly?" He almost laughed at Jon's blank stare of response. Jon tried to remember if Sansa had actually told him anything of her time with Tyrion. "A sham marriage – and unconsummated."

Jon flushed. "I didn't ask."

"Well, it was. It wasn't. Anyway." There was a momentary awkward silence. "She's much smarter than she lets on."

Jon gave a more genuine smile. "She's starting to let on."

He noticed a glimmer of faint pride on Tyrion's face. "Good." He paused again. "I should warn you, you are not here alone with us on this island. Queen Daenerys' Westerosi allies are here too."

This sparked Jon's interest. "Westerosi allies? Who?"

Tyrion did not meet his eyes. "Dorne. House Tyrell… and the Greyjoys, both."

Jon bristled with sudden anger. _Theon_. The man who had taken Winterfell in the first place, who had done what he had done with their family home, to Bran and Rickon, to Robb…

"My bannermen think I'm a fool for coming here," he said shortly. "Perhaps I really am."

Tyrion seemed half-hearted in his response. "Had I been your Hand, I would have advised against it," he pointed out. "Stark men don't tend to fare well when they travel south."

"Thankfully I'm not a Stark."

Out of nowhere, Jon heard a roar. Instinctively, he dove to the ground, noticing Davos do the same, as a huge beast swept past them. A dragon. Looking up, Tyrion and Missandei seemed relatively unfazed. The girl was even smiling down at them in faint amusement. Jon noticed all three dragons had now resumed circling the castle.

"I'd say you get used to them," Tyrion said, offering a hand to help Jon up. "But you never really do. Come – their mother is waiting for you."

Jon exchanged a furtive glance with Davos and continued the walk upwards to the castle in silence.

In what seemed like no time at all, Jon found himself ushered inside what had to be Dragonstone's throneroom. It was dark and unwelcoming, lacking the warmth of the outside climate. As he entered, Tyrion gave him a look that seemed halfway between pity and apprehension. Missandei had walked briskly up the steps towards the throne, and now stood to one side. It was then that Jon finally laid eyes on the last member of House Targaryen. Silver hair flowed in braids and ringlets, a stark contrast of colour in the dimly lit room. Daenerys Targaryen seemed tiny, sat there on the huge throne carved into the rock, her black and red dress just touching the floor. She was simply staring down at him, an unreadable expression on her face. Jon exchanged another look with Davos, and was not comforted to see his own foreboding mirrored in the older man's features.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen," Missandei said, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "The Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." Admiration and awe shone through the girl's voice as she announced the titles of her mistress – who by comparison seemed unperturbed as she stared down at Jon.

"This is Jon Snow," Davos countered plainly. After a pause, he added, "He's King in the North."

A small smile played across Daenerys Targaryen's face. "Thank you for travelling so far, my lord. I hope the seas weren't too rough."

Jon decided to ignore the incorrect title. "The winds were kind, Your Grace," he replied, smiling as well.

Davos, however, didn't. "Apologies – I have a Fleabottom accent, I know – but Jon Snow is _King_ in the North, Your Grace, he's not a lord. And we're not here to bend the knee."

Tyrion Lannister then hurriedly introduced him.

"Well that is unfortunate," Daenerys said, standing up and stepping down one of the many steps. Her tone was no longer soft and welcoming. She looked Jon directly in the eyes – he noticed hers were lilac, just like the old Targaryens of legend. "You have come all this way to break faith with House Targaryen? You will not help us take the Iron Throne from the tyrant that is Cersei Lannister?"

Jon did not back down. "We will not. And we are hardly breaking faith. Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms and been king of the ashes." All the while, he knew he needed to bring up the Night King. All the time he had spent thinking about this meeting, and he still did not know how he could convince anyone of the threat. He just focused on the fact that everyone needed to know and prepare.

He was mildly surprised, however, at Daenerys' response to this. Instead of getting angry, as Jon imagined – arresting or threatening him – she looked genuinely pained for a moment. She took several more steps towards him as she spoke, not noticing the bewilderment of Missandei or Tyrion.

"My father was an evil, evil man," she said, her voice nearly quivering with feeling. "I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family, and I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. If you bend the knee and help me now, I will name you Warden of the North and help you later, I swear it."

Jon nodded, slightly impressed at her acknowledgement. But then he shook his head. How could he agree to help her? There was no time for southern conquests or politics when death was coming for them all. As he did so, he noticed the hope in Daenerys' eyes fizzle out.

There was silence for a few seconds, during which she stared at him, and he at her. Then she asked, "Why are you here?" She sounded genuinely disappointed.

Jon aimed for honesty. "Because I need your help."

She laughed, but without mirth. "Are you trying to take the Iron Throne too, Jon Snow?"

"Myself and the North are too preoccupied with our own enemy to care about who sits on that chair of swords."

She still did not look impressed. "And may I ask about this enemy of yours?"

"The Night King, and the White Walkers," he said simply. Then, at her apparent confusion, "The dead."

"The dead?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows.

"Your Grace, everyone you know will die before winter is over if we do not defeat them. We do not have time to sort out southern affairs before we fight them." Part of Jon could tell this was falling on deaf ears. He tried another tactic. "You haven't stormed King's Landing yet – why not? The only reason I can see is you don't want to harm thousands of innocent people. While that at the very least makes you better than Cersei, the Night King and the army of the dead will do far more damage to the innocents of the Seven Kingdoms than Cersei ever will."

"The army of the dead?" This time it was Tyrion who was incredulous.

"The White Walkers are real," Jon explained, he feared impatiently. "The Night King is real. I've seen them, I've fought them, and I've lost. If they make it past the Wall, and us, Cersei and the other houses of Westeros are all fighting amongst ourselves, we don't stand a chance."

"Cersei Lannister has to be stopped," Daenerys replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The Iron Throne has to be restored to House Targaryen one way or another!"

"You'll be ruling over a graveyard," Jon said, unable to stop his voice rising slightly in frustration. "Even if every soldier in Westeros marched north, the odds still wouldn't be in our favour. We need the Seven Kingdoms fully united and fighting against a common enemy, not each other – and soon."

"Well, I plan to unite the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys countered. "And the North would be one of those kingdoms, no?"

Jon sighed.

"The war against my sister has already begun," Tyrion pointed out. "You can't just expect us and all our allies to halt our hostilities against her and rush immediately north to join you in fighting whatever it was you saw beyond the Wall."

Davos stepped forward to stand beside Jon. He had almost forgotten he was there.

"You don't believe him," his Hand stated. "I can understand that. It all sounds like nonsense." Jon couldn't help but nod along to this. Davos looked directly at Daenerys as he continued. "You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros. He was the first to make allies with wildlings and northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and he was named King in the North – not because of his birthright, he has none – he's a bastard." He shook his head. "I thought dragons were fictional until I heard about your three. I thought the White Walkers were fictional too until I heard multiple accounts. Those things you don't believe in – he fought those things and risked his life for his people – he took a knife in the hea–" Jon cut him off with a stare. He barely knew these people, and certainly didn't want them knowing his life story. Especially not _that_.

Daenerys shook her head, after exchanging a look with Tyrion. "You can't just expect us to drop everything and march north!"

"Why don't you just bend the knee – help us and then we can help you!" Tyrion suggested.

"There's no time for that! And I mean no offense, Your Grace, but I don't know you. As far as I can tell, your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name. My own father fought to help overthrow the Mad King." Irritation was rising in Jon faster than he cared to admit.

"Is there anything we _can_ do for you?" Daenerys asked. "Aside from packing up and going north right now?" She had seemed ready to argue further right up until Jon's last statement. Now she looked pained again.

Jon thought for a moment before answering, her question catching him off guard. "I have information that there is a tremendous amount of dragonglass on this island. In the North, we can use it to make weapons that are able to destroy wights. I would ask your permission to mine it here, and send it back to Winterfell."

Daenerys nodded, not even hesitating. "Done." She paused. "You must forgive my manners. You must both be tired after your long journey. We'll have baths drawn for you and hot meals sent to your rooms. And I would like to speak further with you on the morrow, Jon Snow. When you are settled in."

Jon scarcely had time to nod in agreement before she began speaking in a foreign language to various members of her Queensguard, who stepped forward to escort him out.

"Am I your prisoner?" he asked before he could leave.

He could have sworn Daenerys looked hurt. "No. Neither prisoner, nor ally – you and your men are honoured guests here at Dragonstone." Then she walked away.

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Thank you for your patience and apologies for the delay in updating. This was so hard to write! Hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for that, and for how short the last one was.

I've tried to keep this similar to canon, but changed some of the dialogue around to reflect the fact that Dany knows who Jon is. She is keen for an alliance but is still loath to believe in the threats north of the Wall.

The next chapter will be in Jon's POV and will continue with Jon and Dany getting to know each other better.

Thanks for reading again; any reviews are welcome! Until next time :)


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5 – JON**

Jon was up and about bright and early on his first full day on the island of Dragonstone. He and Davos had decided to take their men to inspect the dragonglass caves and assess how it could be mined. Jon was all for this. The sooner they could start mining, the sooner they could finish, and the sooner they could be on their way back to Winterfell, away from this strange place with its strange people.

While Daenerys' nonchalance and reluctance to accept the severity of the threat of the White Walkers infuriated Jon, he couldn't help but be impressed at how quickly she had been able to unite so many people against Cersei. He barely knew her, but that was alright for the moment. He was grateful to her for the permission to mine the dragonglass. And there would be time to get to know each other later, even if it meant after fighting the Night King, he supposed.

That said, the beauty and sheer size of the cavernous, concealed deposits of the volcanic glass took Jon's breath away when he arrived at the cave with Davos and his men. Wall to wall of softly shimmering black rock, as far as the eye could see. Jon was sure that there was enough here to fight three Long Nights, not just one. There was definitely enough to adequately arm any number of soldiers. He nodded in approval as he turned to the men, all staring at him expectantly, awaiting his instructions.

It didn't take him long to issue a couple of commands, assigning the men to areas of rock and ensuring they had the right resources. With nothing else to do, Jon had every intention of picking up a spare axe and joining them for a while, until Davos placed a hand on his arm, as though in warning. He spun around and followed the knight's line of vision to the person at Dragonstone he had wanted to see the least. Theon Greyjoy.

Time seemed to stop for Jon then. Suppressed emotions rolled over him like waves, no different to the beach and sea the other side of the cave wall. The anger he still felt over Theon's capture of Winterfell. The disgust at his betrayal of Robb; his endangerment of Bran and Rickon. The contempt he felt for himself, for not seeing through Theon while they were growing up, the curiosity as to whether Theon had been planning to betray the Starks even as a boy. All of this mingled with the strongest of all – relief and gratitude that, somewhere along the line, there had been enough good in Theon to facilitate Sansa's escape from Winterfell, to help her as far north as he had. The fact that he would never have taken back the North or seen his sister again without his later actions.

The two men stared at each other for what seemed like forever – Theon in apprehension and bewilderment, Jon in impassive indisposition.

"Jon," Theon said simply, yet tentatively after a few moments. "I… I couldn't believe you were coming, until I saw your ship." Jon frowned, as he hesitantly took a step forward, swallowing nervously as he did so. "Sansa… is she alright?"

That was enough for Jon. Lunging forward, he seized Theon by the shoulder, stilling him in a vice-like grip. "What you did for her is the only reason I'm not killing you," he growled. _And the fact that the only weapon I have at my disposal is a leftover pickaxe_ he followed up with in his mind. He did not release Theon until he noticed Davos step forward level to them. It was only as Theon staggered away, massaging his shoulder, that Jon noticed that others were entering the cave, in the form of Daenerys Targaryen and half a dozen Dothraki. Jon internally cringed at the thought of Daenerys having witnessed the interaction, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"I thought your men may want some help in mining the dragonglass," she announced after a few seconds, staring curiously between Jon and Theon, and then gesturing to the Dothraki. "Jon Snow, if you wouldn't mind, a word?"

Jon could only nod as he and Daenerys took a few steps further into the cave than everyone else. Theon remained hidden from view by Davos, who only gave him a blundering smile. Jon flushed. He did not want to argue with Daenerys, and he certainly did not want to discuss Theon with her.

"I did not mean to intrude," she started as they walked. "I just wanted to see all this again before it got hacked to pieces."

"It's an amazing thing to see," he responded. "And certainly all we'll ever need."

Daenerys was reflective for a moment. Then, "You know Cersei cannot stay on the Iron Throne? We will not let her."

Jon turned properly to face her as they stopped walking – out of earshot from the others. "I never expected that you would."

"I want us to be allies," she said earnestly. "We could help each other – you could help with the Iron Throne and I can help with the Night King."

"The Night King would have to come first," Jon said. "As far as I'm concerned, everyone breathing is on the same side."

Daenerys looked pointedly behind them, where Theon was still talking to Ser Davos. Jon flushed again.

"Many of my allies here want me to fly to the Red Keep tomorrow," she told him. "The city would fall within a day, and Cersei with it. I have three large dragons. My only other strategy is a lengthy siege."

"If you use the dragons to melt castles and burn cities, you're no different from those who came before you. Just another tyrant." He wondered why she was telling him this.

"I don't want to be just another tyrant," she countered sincerely. "Jon Snow, I have spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me that I don't remember all of their names. I have been sold like a broodmare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Only faith in myself kept me standing through all those years in exile. Faith that one day I would return to Westeros, break the wheel that is continuously rolling over rich and poor both, and ensure that no one has to suffer the way that I have."

Jon was lost for words. Before arriving at Dragonstone, he had been impressed with her ability to gain and control large armies, filled with curiosity about the dragons, yet deep down thought of her as little more than a sulking despot. Yet here she was. Her expression was earnest and genuine.

He made eye contact with her. "I'm sorry that all of this had to happen to you," he said softly, yet awkwardly, knowing that whatever he said would not undo the last few years. "I think you're a better candidate for the Iron Throne than Cersei, I really do, but you won't be able to rule at all if the Night King and his army make it south of the Wall."

She took a step closer to him. "And you don't think you defeat them without my armies, or my dragons?"

He took a step back, flushing yet again. "No, I don't think I can," he told her honestly.

Her voice was soft. "I want to help you, Jon Snow," she said. "Yet if I march north, my allies will desert me. Cersei will turn the Seven Kingdoms against me."

"You have helped us a little," he admitted. "By letting us mine the dragonglass. Thank you."

She nodded. He looked away, and there was a moment of silence.

This was soon interrupted by the appearance of Missandei, who was accompanied by Davos and Theon.

"A raven from Winterfell, my Queen," Missandei said in greeting, handing a scroll to Daenerys. Jon frowned and exchanged an uneasy look with Davos.

A smile from Daenerys alleviated this fairly quickly. "From Winterfell?" she said, turning the scroll in her hand. "There's a direwolf sigil on the seal." She stretched out and handed it to Jon. "It must be for you."

"Sansa," he said with a smile of his own, taking the offered parchment and unrolling it. He read the neatly penned letter from his sister and then looked up at the others, who were all staring at him intently.

"Bran has returned to Winterfell," he said, breaking out in a wide grin. "He's alive!" He glanced around. Davos looked pleased for him; Theon looked as relieved as Jon felt.

"I am happy for you," Daenerys said warmly. "Anything else?"

Jon's face fell as he scanned the rest of the letter. "No mention of Arya… and Bran has seen the Army of the Dead heading towards Eastwatch." He rolled the parchment back up and toyed with it as he spoke. His elation about Bran evaporated as fear washed over him. "If they make it past the Wall…"

"How long would that take?" Daenerys asked, and Jon noticed a hint of worry in her tone.

"A couple of months," Jon speculated shrugging. "Give or take."

A moment of silence. And then –

"I'm glad Bran's safe." Theon's voice wavered as he spoke.

"Lord of Winterfell now, I suppose," Davos mused, as though trying to direct the attention away from Theon. "And a nice Stark reunion to look forward to when you get back."

Jon nodded.

"Forgive me but may I ask a question?" Jon was surprised to hear Missandei addressing him shyly.

"Of course."

"Your father and your brother and sister are Starks, but your name is Jon Snow?"

He nodded. "I'm a bastard." Then, to clarify, as the girl suddenly seemed confused, "My mother and father weren't married."

There was a brief pause as Missandei processed this. Jon glanced at Daenerys, and was surprised to see her staring at the floor, fists clenched. She looked to be in pain.

"Is the custom different in Naath?" Davos enquired.

"We don't have marriage in Naath, so the concept of a bastard doesn't exist," she explained. "Anyway."

"Are you alright, Your Grace?" Jon asked Daenerys, who's expression nor posture had changed. At the sound of his voice, she stood up straighter.

"Of course, thank you," she replied brightly, smiling in a way that seemed forced. She looked at Missandei. "Call Tyrion and Varys. We need to talk strategy."

"At once, my Queen," Missandei said, leaving the group.

"And I'm sure you can speak to your sister, Lady Ellaria and Lady Olenna?" she asked of Theon, who also nodded and swiftly departed.

Davos and Jon exchanged puzzled expressions.

Daenerys looked straight at Jon. "You said a couple of months. I see that as a month and a half to depose Cersei, collate forces and march north."

Jon could barely believe his luck. "You'll help us?" he said. "You believe me, then, about the Night King and the Army of the Dead?"

Daenerys smiled at him, then looked around the caverns of dragonglass. "You'd better get to work, Jon Snow. This won't mine itself." Then she turned on her heel and left the cave.

**A/N: **Thank you so much for reading, and apologies again for the delay in uploading.

Will Dany tell Jon the truth she knows? Not yet. Will she take the Iron Throne? Who knows?

The next chapter will be in Dany's POV. It might take a while for the next update as I've got a lot going on at the moment, but I'll do my best.

Thanks again for reading, don't forget to review. Until next time :)


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6 – DANY**

A few hours after she had left Jon Snow to his own devices, Daenerys stormed out of the Chamber of the Painted Table after having dismissed all of her allies. Allies who two weeks before had insisted that they would support any decisions she made. Yet as soon as she had started talking about the North, and began describing the creatures that had been spotted beyond the Wall, all had lost interest. Olenna Tyrell had just laughed, Ellaria Sand had deemed it an attempt for Jon to scaremonger them into leaving the Iron Throne alone, while Tyrion and Varys had tentatively mentioned a lack of proof. Yara Greyjoy had pointed out that her fleet of Ironborn would be of little use in such a fight. It had also been mentioned that perhaps the so-called King in the North should have been there at the meeting, if the threat was so imminent. None of them had taken her seriously.

Daenerys had to consider Jon himself. A whole mix of thoughts and feelings came to mind where the broody King in the North was concerned. She could not allow herself to forget that the man was technically her nephew and as such had a stronger claim to the Iron Throne than she did. But in just the few times she had spoken to Jon, she noticed the aura of reluctance that surrounded him. She could tell that this was a man who did not want to rule, who had found himself in power rather than striving for it. When she looked at him, she did not see competition for the throne. She saw the last surviving member of her family. She saw a fellow visionary who wanted to help people and do what was right. And Dany wanted to get to know him better.

What she couldn't understand or describe was how she had developed such a strong affinity for Jon so quickly. She felt more for him than was appropriate for a political ally, honoured guest or even long-lost relative. Dany admired him and wanted to be closer to him. Their familial ties did not worry her – after spending the majority of her childhood believing she would marry Viserys; the greater distance in relation was fine. She also remembered faintly that the Starks had intermarried, especially with cousins. Yet part of her knew that Jon would be bothered by finding out they were related. Daenerys knew she needed to tell him. Part of her wanted to wait for the right time, part of her, selfishly, wanted to wait for an alliance. There was also the issue of her current allies, as well as the threats in the North.

Needless to say there was a lot going on in her mind as she walked, speeding around her head at lightning pace. Indeed, Dany was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't register where she was going until she walked straight into someone.

Jon.

The King in the North held her at arm's length, studying her with an expression of concern.

"Are you alright, Your Grace?"

It took effort not to flush at their proximity.

"I'm fine," she started to say, but then shook her head as she realised the obviousness of the opposite. "I've got a lot on my mind."

Jon Snow smiled gently. "I can understand that." He nodded in the direction of where she had come, towards the Chamber of the Painted Table. "I take it things didn't go to plan."

Dany sighed in irritation. "Let's just say they do not believe in the threat you speak of."

Jon considered her carefully. "Do you?"

"I don't know," she murmured, truthfully.

He smiled at her. "To be honest, Your Grace, after our first meeting, I'm surprised you're even willing to consider it."

She smiled back, but without mirth. "Why else would you be here?" Irritation was rising again, and she did not want to take it out on Jon.

"Listen," he said softly, sensing the storm. "I know how you feel. I know what it's like to have people profess undying loyalty to you, only to then pick apart your next move."

She blinked, curiosity getting the better of her. "What did you do? After they picked it apart?"

He huffed out a chuckle. "I defied them anyway. I'm here, am I not?"

Dany thought for a moment. "You haven't been King in the North for long, then?"

He shook his head.

"Tyrion said you were in the Nights Watch," she said. "Is it true you were Lord Commander?"

He appeared uncomfortable, looking at his feet as he nodded. "Aye."

Courage and curiosity overtook her earlier annoyance. "How did you become a king?"

His demeanour didn't change. "It's a long story, Your Grace."

She stepped towards him. "I told you mine."

Jon stepped backwards, just as he had done in the cave, but met her eyes as he spoke. "And I'll tell you mine, I swear it. But not now. Not today. You've got enough on your mind already, Your Grace."

Dany nodded in defeat but straightened her posture. "Call me Daenerys."

He smiled and nodded, then made to leave her.

"Wait," she called after him. "There's to be another meeting tomorrow. Be there – please."

He nodded in assent and continued on his way.

Dany carried on walking in the opposite direction, feeling a sudden urge to get some air. As she arrived outside and made towards the top of the steps, she encountered the Red Priestess, Melisandre. She was swaddled in a thicker cloak, with a matching red headscarf, and appeared very wary.

"Daenerys Jelmazmo," she greeted. "I am leaving for Volantis now. I wanted to thank you for your hospitality, and for following my advice."

"You are welcome," Dany replied, slightly taken aback by the suddenness of the address. After a few seconds, she found her voice. "You asked me to summon Jon Snow and I did… yet I can't help wondering why you haven't met with him. He has been here for two days."

Melisandre cast another vigilant look behind Dany before answering, with a lowered voice. "I will be honest with you," she said, "I did not part on good terms with the King in the North." She looked carefully around herself as well. "Nor his adviser."

"Ser Davos?" Daenerys said with surprise. While slightly brash during their first meeting, she thought Jon's Hand relatively mild-mannered.

The Red Priestess only grimaced in response.

Dany took a step closer. "Why?"

She lowered her gaze. "Because of mistakes I made. Terrible mistakes." Instead of elaborating, she recovered herself. "I thank you again, Daenerys Stormborn."

Dany nodded. "Safe travels. Farewell."

Melisandre gave her a searching look. "We will meet again," she said simply, and then she was gone.

Even more bewildered by this point, Daenerys made her way around the castle onto the cliffs, to overlook the sea. Finally, peace overtook her as she stared into the horizon, the wind in her hair, sun on her face. The smell of the sea air enveloped her senses like an embrace. The silhouettes of the three dragons were just visible, and Dany watched them swirl and dive for a while. For a while, she could shrug off the titles and just be Dany – a rare treat in these times.

But this was only to be for a while. This time it was a group of Dothraki who approached her where she stood. As two of the men at the front parted as they got close to her, Dany spotted a dark-cloaked figure. Jorah Mormont. She broke into a wide grin.

"This man says he is your friend, Khaleesi," one of the Dothraki intoned in his native language.

"He is my friend," she replied similarly, smiling as the group nodded to one another and departed, leaving her alone with Jorah on the cliff.

"Your Grace," he said immediately, bending the knee before standing again to look her in the eye. Ser Jorah was slimmer than he had been when she last saw him, especially thinner in the face, yet there was no denying it was him.

"You look strong," she told him, as they started to walk slowly along the cliff edge. "I'm guessing you found the cure?"

He smiled slightly at that. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't. I return to your service, my Queen. If you'll have me."

Dany grinned at him again. "It would be my honour." She hugged him. "Welcome to Dragonstone, Ser Jorah."

"I see you've found yourself many allies already," he said with pride, gesturing in the direction of the beach, where many of the flagships were docked. "The Tyrells, the Greyjoys, the Dornish... and was that a Red Priestess I just saw you with?"

She nodded. "Melisandre has just left. Her fellow Lord of Light worshippers helped to bring peace to Meereen, so I have said any are welcome here." She paused. "Though I cannot help but be wary… their powers…" Dany didn't know how best to put it into words, the unease she had felt. Wariness at how much the Red Woman knew, about the past and the future, what else she knew and had not divulged. The way Dany felt as if Melisandre could see right through her, read her mind, know her thoughts. It was… _weird_.

"I know what you mean," the knight said darkly. "I've encountered a fair few in my lifetime, and it doesn't get easier." He frowned as they walked. "I must say, Khaleesi, I was very surprised to see a Stark banner on the waters. I did not think the North would vouch for your claim, especially not so soon."

Dany grimaced, knowing this would come up eventually. "They haven't," she said softly. She pondered whether to tell Jorah the truth she had found out about Jon, then thought better of it. "Jon Snow and his men are simply honoured guests here." They turned a bend as they walked, now back towards the castle. "He is also calling himself King in the North." She watched the knight's face as he processed this.

"Ned Stark's bastard son?" he said to begin with, and Dany silently bit back the urge to correct him. "I heard many years ago that his eldest, Robb Stark, had been named King. I also heard he was murdered under guest right at a wedding."

She frowned. Tyrion had told her as much, during one of his many evening-time drunken ramblings at sea, on route to Dragonstone.

"King Jon, though?" Jorah continued. He looked over at her. "What do you think of the title? Of him?"

"I don't know," she confessed honestly. "He seems to be a good man. Honourable, just, strong. Reluctant to lead, yet capable…"

Ser Jorah pressed her. "But…?"

Dany sighed. "I don't know. Nobody else here takes him seriously. I've been chastised for not punishing him for refusing to join my cause. Everyone else seems to think I'm naïve, or just plain stupid, for even considering the possibility of the threats he speaks of North of the Wall."

He stopped walking. "North of the Wall?"

She sighed again. "Night Kings, and White Walkers. The dead, he says. The whole North is rising, ready to fight them."

Jorah looked very severe. "Really?"

She nodded. "Apparently so, and that's why he refuses to bend the knee or join the fight here. I believe he intends to mine enough dragonglass – that can be forged into weapons that destroy them – and then be on his way back to Winterfell."

"The man who cured me of my greyscale was a member of the Night's Watch," Jorah told her. "Training to be the next Maester at Castle Black. He would have known if the threat were real, but I only thought to ask after you." He paused. "My late father was Lord Commander. Were he alive, I could have sent a raven for confirmation."

"Jon Snow was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch too," Dany mused. "He must have succeeded your father."

Jorah frowned. "Lord Commander? Then how come…?" he trailed off. "I don't suppose it matters. But if I can advise you on one thing, Khaleesi, let it be this. If the issue is so serious that Ned Stark's son has come all the way here to seek your help, the threat he speaks of should not merely be taken with a pinch of salt."

Dany nodded seriously, feeling a sudden chill. "I told him I wanted to help, but take the Iron Throne first so that I have the power to command more forces. The rest of my allies do not believe in the threat at all, so I doubt they would want to join the fight." She shivered as they made their way towards the castle. "There is to be another meeting about it tomorrow." She smiled at him. "And besides, you need to rest."

She handed him over to a group of Dothraki women, with instructions for the provision of food, a bath and a room. Then she made her way to her own chamber, deciding she had officially had enough for one day.

**A/N: **Wow, it's been a while! There's a million-and-one reasons I decided to take a break from writing, but I am happy to say I'm back now! Thank you all so much for your support for my stories, and the messages and reviews you left in my absence.

I hope you like this chapter; the next one will also be in Daenerys' POV.

Thanks for reading – don't forget to review. Until next time (which won't be anywhere near as far off!) :)


End file.
